As the seasons transition from vibrant spring flowers and farewells to school friends to sweltering days in New York City, so does my zip code for a couple of weeks. Every summer, I head northeast from my concrete jungle to the more suburban small town New Haven, CT, the home of my paternal grandmother. This has been a tradition since my brother and I were small to attend ‘Camp Maa’ and spend quality time with my grandmother learning how to cook traditional Chinese food, play a wicked game of poker and binge James Bond movies. Now that my brother is in college and off participating in numerous time-consuming activities, I continue to visit my grandmother, whom I love very much.
Typically, I hustle to Grand Central with nothing but a small bag in hand, to catch the Metro-North train to New Haven. Whether I absorb myself in a book or listen to sad Taylor Swift songs on the train, I am always shocked as to how fast the train rides pass. My aunt, who also lives in New Haven, picks me up from Union Station, by the waterfront, and drives me to Maa’s. We are close. I call my grandmother several times a week, updating her on school, friends, and sharing random thoughts about great food I’ve tasted (which to her is the most exciting news to hear). I’ve grown up gossiping with her in Shanghainese while concocting various dishes in the kitchen together for Chinese New Year or going on secret drives to McDonald’s since my family doesn’t want either of us to indulge in junk food (however, we obviously do and get away with it). We confide in each other and I find solace waking up in a quiet house to the sound of brewing coffee instead of sirens and my parents yelling at me to walk the dog every morning.
My grandmother is the best chef out there. She taught me how to cook her shrimp noodles with scallions, TePong pork and Zongzi. As we cook the aromatic smells of salty soy sauce and sweet alliums permeate the kitchen walls. If we don’t feel like cooking, we happily feast on Frank Pepe’s or Zuppardi’s New Haven pizza, which according to many food critics and articles, is better than New York City pizza. To end the night, we tend to enjoy a great James Bond movie, Sean Connery owning the screen in my favorite Bond movie: Thunderball.
Escaping New York City’s chaos, and, nowadays, as a rising senior, my parents swarming me with questions and lectures about responsibility, quality time with my grandmother is very important to me. She slows me down. She calms me. She fills me with happiness and understands me like no one else, giving me classic ‘grandmother advice,’ which in retrospect is beneficial to me to receive a different perspective that isn’t so serious. There is nothing more meaningful to me than to have long conversations with Maa, laughing in English and in Shanghainese in a room full of delectable cooked food, cards, Bond movies, and New Haven pizza.
